Controlling Fire
by M4R1SS4
Summary: When Natasha notices differences in Clint's behavior, their partnership begins to change.
1. Clouded

This was too close.

Even for her this was too close. Natasha could feel Clint's teeth tracing down her lower neck, leaving scolding flesh in his wake. Her skin was turning red, though if it was from the heat she couldn't tell.

She knew he was acting, and that in a few minutes the target would leave the room and she could release the breath she had been holding in. However, in all of their under cover assignments, it never got this close.

Clint had to kiss her once before. Somewhere at the beginning of their partnership. It was not the light peck on the lips she was expecting; he stuck his tongue down her throat. She remembered it because they were about to be made by one of their marks. Antonio Divuela and his crew were just about to turn the corner to their hotel room, and Natasha thought for sure they were done. She turned to Clint and was about to pull out her gun but Clint stopped her. He took her face in both of his hands and kissed her, hard.

This was only their first or second mission. After Clint saved her from being assassinated by the very people they now work for, Natasha had to go through standard training before being accepted into Shield. Clint already knew she was going to get accepted, because he had scene her in action. He helped her a lot though; training, sparring and studying.

The kiss took Natasha by surprise, but after a few seconds she realized the targets were chuckling and murmuring something along the lines of "crazy, love-sick people…" in Italian, rather than it turning into a firefight.

After that she and Clint slid right into a partnership. Shield said they performed excellently together, and when Director Fury agreed, it was set in stone. After working together for two years now, they had developed a sort of blissful ignorance towards their feelings, if they even had any.

So many things separated them from acknowledging their emotional need for each other. It always posed a serious threat to their job by being so close. They were more than a "work marriage" though, which is what they joked about being all this time. She didn't know what she felt to be truthful. There was a brief time when Clint had a girlfriend for a month or two. During said time Natasha forcibly blocked Clint out, and he noticed almost instantly. She told him that she wasn't avoiding him and he was just being unreasonable, but of course he didn't believe her. He thought he could make it work, but after seeing the effects it had on his partnership he cut it off. Natasha didn't even remember the girl's name.

With Clint it was always when a target got too close to Natasha for his liking. More often than not Natasha was the bait for a 'special' assignment, which required her to show some skin. Clint took an extra long time killing the men who touched her, which didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

This time was different though. This was their first assignment out after the Avengers Initiative. They had spent a lot of time relaxing, mostly on a private beach that Tony Stark had bought in celebration of their victory. Something had changed with Clint though. Where he normally was relaxed and happy to spent time with her, he became distant and moody. He still trusted her, and she of course trusted him so she let it be, thinking it would return back to normal when they started doing missions together again.

It was a rough start. They missed the first checkpoint by about two minutes, and had to rendezvous at the meeting point in less than thirty-seconds, and be ready to fight close to eight targets if it didn't work out. They made it with no time to spare, and Natasha immediately pulled off her dress and lay down on the bed, leaving space for Clint to climb on top of her.

Their cover was slightly complicated this time. Clint was supposed to be working for the targets, and he was taking a 'break' with one of the high-class girls they provided at the hotel. It was all fake of course, they weren't even supposed to kiss. The man who was about to enter was an extremely deadly leader of a human-trafficking ring from the Middle East, named Aliah Jebruth.

Clint swung his leg around to her side, and slid his other one up to rest between her thighs. She glanced at him quickly to get a read on what he was planning but for once it wasn't clear to her. He positioned his right hand next to her head, while letting his left hand wander down around her waist. He moved his face closer to hers but she placed a finger gently on his lips. Her eyebrows narrowed in misunderstanding, because he knew that for this cover they couldn't kiss. The girls that this hotel provided were extremely expensive; the cost goes up for kissing, and even higher for spending time together after.

"Kissing will cost extra." She said hesitantly, giving Clint a confused look. They hadn't had time to check if the room was bugged, so she had to speak as if the target was listening. He seemed to ignore it though. Or maybe he wasn't concentrating. Natasha looked into his eyes but they were clouded over with something she had never seen before. He gripped her hand and slowly pushed it down into the covers above her head. Before she could react he kissed her full on the mouth. He hungrily sucked on each one of her lips before grazing his tongue along her teeth, begging for entrance. Distantly she felt his thumb rubbing small circles along her bare belly, and she couldn't stifle the moan that came from deep within her chest.

She wanted to stop and ask him what he was doing, but there was no time as she heard the door click with the warning of someone's arrival. Aliah walked in with four bodyguards and saw the pair in bed before laughing, a deep, throaty, disgusting laugh.

Clint stopped and looked over at him, before smiling lightly.

"Couldn't help myself," he said, in his perfectly trained, immoral voice. To anyone looking in they would see a scumbag who was forcing more from a prostitute than what was allowed, but Natasha could see through the mask easily. She kept a blank look on her face, partially from experience and partially from actual confusion over his actions.

"Well don't stop helping yourself on my account," Aliah's voice was dripping with filth, right down to the smirk on his face. This was when it got too close. Natasha had been losing grasp on what was happening before, but this sent her over the edge. Clint looked back down at her, the same cloudy look she saw before, and then kissed her, this time more roughly. It was all she could do to keep up the appearance that she was experienced at this. She met his mouth with almost equal fervor, only slipping up slightly as his tongue entered her domain again. She felt his leg press up higher between her legs and she choked a little at the feeling. Suddenly he released her mouth, and that's when the biting began.

He moved to her cheek first, then her jawline, leaving small kisses against her clean skin. When he reached her neck he lingered longer than necessary, suckling at the skin beneath her jaw. She let out a small whimper that was only half because she remembered they were on a mission. After a few seconds she felt his teeth come out and lightly nip at her skin. Natasha had never felt Clint be so aggressive before, even on their trip to Budapest and that was much higher tension than right now.

He was dragging his teeth lightly down her neck, towards her chest. She couldn't breathe, much less shift her bodyweight to send a signal to him. Her signal was going to be that he was going to far. Clint's left hand moved up to below her breast, and she bit the inside of her cheek when she felt his finger slide underneath her bra.

"Stop." Aliah said firmly. At his command, Clint stopped and looked over in mock obedience. Aliah observed Natasha in a way that made her feel extremely uncomfortable, though she showed no visible signs of discomfort. He looked at her starting from her forehead down to her feet, prolonging his examination around sensitive spots. He gave her a crooked smile before looking back to Clint.

"We have work to do," he said darkly, he motioned his hand and his guards stood at the ready. "Get cleaned up and meet us in the lobby." Aliah sounded extremely bored at this point, as he walked out followed closely by his guards.

Clint pushed himself off the bed and quickly dressed in his dress shirt and pants. He grabbed his watch and slipped it on his right hand, before grabbing his cell and placing it in his back pocket. Natasha slid off the side of the bed and pulled on her dress that had been thrown carelessly to the foot of their room in an effort to meet their deadline. After she pulled it over her shoulders she felt Clint behind her, expertly zipping up the back of her dress.

She turned around and looked him in the eye. There wasn't any cloudiness like before, just the pure blue she's used to looking at. He was still distant though. His eyes carried something with them that she wasn't used to seeing when Clint looked at her. If only she knew what it was.

"Are you alright?" He said slowly as he fixed his tie. She cleared her throat before responding with a flat, "Yes." He nodded and grabbed his coat, heading towards the door.

"See you in an hour." He said, giving her a half smile before striding out into the hallway and closing the door shut. Her face burned with an unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty. She grabbed her knife and sheathed it on her left inner thigh, before putting a small caliber weapon in her purse and clicking it shut. Last touch was poison dipped hairpins that skated easily into her hair, fitting firmly around her crimson locks of hair. After she was positive she had everything, she gripped the handle to the door and walked out to the next phase of their assignment: takedown.

* * *

This assignment was nearing its grand finale, Natasha could feel it. She was on the other side of the wall, but she could feel Clint's energy radiating as if he was standing right next to her. The voices were becoming slightly elevated, signaling a nearing argument that would eventually end up with someone dead. Her right index finger was already pressed against the cold trigger of her gun, safety off and ready to shoot. She waited for the distress signal but the sound of a struggle burst out first, and Natasha kicked the door in.

Already she mapped out the room: four guards in the front but only two of them turned their attention to her, and two more in the back who were still trying to gather themselves up from a card game. Clint was struggling with Aliah, who had him a firm death grip on his neck. Natasha shot Aliah first, the bullet whizzing past the side of Clint's head. He didn't flinch, which was a compliment to her shooting skills. Clint elbowed Aliah backwards and then punched him once before he fell down.

Natasha felt one guard about to lunge at her from behind, so she caught him with a backwards elbow in the jaw, and then turned around to knee him in the stomach. He dropped his gun and fell forwards, clutching his midsection in pain before she finished him off with a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. Natasha quickly grabbed the guard's gun and shot two more guards coming at her from the side. Out of her peripheral vision she saw Clint fighting with two other guards simultaneously, easily blocking and rebuffing their every shot. Natasha was about to go help him when she felt a hand against her throat. She choked momentarily at the sudden contact, before reaching for the pins in her hair. Before she could grab one, the guard who had a hold on her slammed her into the wall and she lost a few seconds of air. Within moments she felt the guard still as if he were hit with something, and then release his grip on her as he fell to the ground.

She didn't even have to turn around to know what had happened, but when she did a familiar sight greeted her. The guard had been shot with an arrow, from a very precise shooter. Clint's eyes gleamed with hatred towards the guard as he retracted is bow back into a small piece and stashed it behind his back.

"I had it under control," Natasha said in a miffed tone, but Clint only laughed.

"Of course you did," he said with a knowing smile on his face. Natasha narrowed her eyes at Clint's smirk as he walked out the door, motioning her to follow.

"Come on, sidekick!" Natasha heard him joke from a distance. She sighed heavily before following behind him, pinching him hard right below his kidneys when she got closer. Their subtle slide back into playful banter was about the only thing keeping Natasha's mind off of what happened earlier. She was a professional. If it were anyone else she wouldn't have even remembered their face, let alone what had happened, but it wasn't anyone else. It was Clint, and that made it complicated.

"You alright, Tash?" Clint's voice collided with her thoughts, bringing her back to reality. She was staring out the window of the helicopter they had gotten into, but she turned to look at him.

"You asked me that before." She said softly. His eyes penetrated her armor, as they usually did, but she met his gaze easily.

"And you lied to me before." He replied. Natasha's face dropped slightly at his remark. She could never figure out how he _always_ knew when she lied.

"I didn't lie, nothing is wrong with me."

"Physically maybe," Clint looked skeptical as he eyed her up and down, "but a mission can always take an emotional toll. Are you sure you're not hiding something that happened?"

She smiled briefly at his concern, but her enthusiasm dropped when she remembered the real reason for her uneasiness.

"Yes, I am sure." She gave her answer robotically, hoping that he would just drop it. Nothing good would come out of her asking why he had taken it so far today. Clint was already struggling after the incident with Loki; having his mind taken away from him was a scary and unforgiving experience.

Natasha knew he didn't buy it, but as she predicted he let it be for the remainder of the ride. Instead they talked about her hair for some reason unknown to her. Clint commented on the length of it, saying she was growing it out. Natasha denied it but Clint said he saw her hair everyday, for hours at a time; whereas Natasha only saw her hair maybe once in the morning and once at night before she went to bed. The accusation was so astoundingly irrelevant that Natasha could feel a fire sparking from deep within her body. The heat was a normal occurrence when she argued with Clint, because arguing with him was closer to arguing with a child.

When they finally arrived back at base, Clint was still chuckling over her obvious annoyance. Director Fury came over to give them a short de-briefing before they were allowed to go rest.

"How did my two best assassins do this time?" He smiled at them, the skin around his good eye crinkling with happiness. The one thing about Director Fury was that no matter how many mysteries surrounded him, he cared deeply for all of his agents.

"We did pretty well, but I think Natasha's hair got in the way of some of it—"

Natasha silently slipped one of her concealed knives around Clint's back to rest gently on his outer ribcage. He stopped talking almost instantly, but his mouth moved in the direction of a smile.

"We did excellently." Natasha said with no hesitation. Director Fury looked slightly doubtful for a moment, before nodding his head.

"Well then, you two go take showers and rest up. Shield will contact you when we have another mission." He took a moment to check his watch before turning and walking back the direction he came. Natasha watched him leave, all the while still holding a knife to Clint's back. It only took her half a second to realize that was a bad idea. While she made a move to block the attack she knew was coming, Clint was faster than her and in an instant had her arm with the knife twisted around to face herself. She struggled for freedom, but Clint backed her up against the wall, clamping down on her other wrist using his free hand.

"That was a cheap move." She said in a strained voice, her breathing slightly ragged. It was taking nearly all of her strength to keep her own hand from hitting her with the knife.

"You only say that because it worked." Clint smiled mischievously before pressing her farther into the wall. She groaned instinctively, and suddenly Clint got that weird look again. His eyes clouded over, and his force dropped just enough for her to wiggle out of the trap she was in. She twisted her arm back out of his grip and pushed him off her in one move. Clint blinked like he momentarily forgot that they were fighting, before shaking it off.

"Good job." He said absentmindedly, commenting on her being able to escape. She furrowed her brow as he started backing away.

"Clint…"

"I should probably go take a shower, I'll see you later Nat."

Natasha saw him turn and start to walk away and was immediately concerned about him.

"Wait, Clint." She jogged up to him before he could get to far, and Clint only turned slightly to listen. His jaw was tight like he was in pain.

"Spar with me?" She said gently. Clint relaxed visibly, and finally looked over at her. He didn't give her the look she thought he was going to give her. He would usually be ecstatic to fight, probably would arrive at the gym before her even. This time he looked distressed, but he gave her a smile nonetheless.

"You're on."


	2. Attachment

Sparring with Clint was the single most exhilarating thing that Natasha did. When she was younger she had grown up with only trainers to practice with, and soon trainers became remarkably ineffective. She grew up thinking she had the highest caliber of fighting technique, until she met Clint. He was the only one that could match her, and sometimes outdo her. It was infuriating, because she was so unaccustomed to losing, yet at the same time incredible.

He arched around the mat almost as agile as her, but there were times when his muscle got in the way of his movement. She caught his blow to her head in her right arm, twisting him around and then using her knee to push him down to the floor. He fell flat on his stomach with a small thud, grunting from the sudden loss of air. She smirked at what seemed like her inevitable win, pressing her knee farther into his back until she heard it crack slightly. Clint hated when she did that.

"Anytime you want to admit defeat, just let me know." Natasha said in a condescendingly low voice. Clint laughed as much as he could with her full weight on top of him, before slowly retracting his hand. Natasha saw it moving, but she didn't see what he could accomplish. She watched the hand carefully nonetheless, because the last time she had underestimated Clint, she had been sorely mistaken.

His arm moved carefully to her side, and she felt his fingers dancing lightly across her leg. She sucked in a breath as they moved higher, closer to her middle thigh. His eyes softened immensely, picking up a curious look, and his fingers started to pulse in circles around her leg.

"Nat…" He said in a pained voice, all elements of fighting gone. Her eyebrows narrowed in concern, and she let up her force on him, thinking he might be hurt. Instantly he pushed off the ground, catching her completely off guard, and hurled her around so he was on top of her, this time face to face. She struggled but he pinned her down, using his lower body weight to hold her fully in place.

Clint looked thoroughly amused. "Gotcha," he said. Natasha glared up at him, the fire that was only a small kindling in her core suddenly taking on more of a wild nature. Her brain automatically started working out a million different ways to maneuver out of this position, but it stopped when Clint leaned in closer to her ear. His breath was hot and sticky, a sign of their workout, and it tickled the outer shell of her ear as he whispered, "Anytime you want to admit defeat, just let me know." He leaned back so she could see the enjoyment in his eyes before he winked at her. After a few moments he hopped up, and then offered his hand to help her, which she took reluctantly.

"Go again?" Clint bounced up and down a few times to steady himself, and then repositioning into a fighting stance. Natasha stood still, looking at him slightly bewildered.

"What the hell was that?" She said, hiding only a slight amount of shame in her voice. Clint lowered his fists, and stared back at her.

"What was what?" He asked innocently. She scowled at him, and pointed to the mat accusingly.

"When you rubbed my leg. We've never used that as a sparring technique." Her voice broke slightly, to her displeasure. Clint shrugged in defense.

"You have to be prepared for any tactic; enemies can be ruthless." The statement rolled off his tongue easily, and she relaxed at the logic of it. He was right of course, but it still threw her a little.

Natasha nodded slowly, and backed up to prepare for the next match. If Clint wasn't going to play fair than neither was she. Her eyes became synced with his every move, watching him with an uncanny familiarity. She first noticed all the parts of him that were easily recognizable. His stance for one had never changed: shoulders squared, feet pointed directly at her, knees slightly bent and his fists raised to just above his chin. He had a joint in his right leg that had never healed after he broke it in the second grade in a track and field exercise. She would always try to use that to her advantage, and he always regrets telling her that story.

Then there were some things that were unrecognizable today. His eyes, usually blue and sharp like knife, were still dulled down like earlier. They radiated with a new intensity that she still couldn't get a read on. Another thing that changed which she almost didn't notice were his thumbs. Usually his thumbs were positioned right below his knuckles, which was a typical stance if you intended to inflict damage to your "enemy". They always practiced this way so it felt more real, even though no real damage was done. This time however he had tucked his thumbs into his fist, so they weren't visible.

Natasha frowned at that unnatural positioning, but instead of commenting on it she decided to tuck it away for leverage during their fight. She dove for the first shot, faking him out from the left and hitting him evenly on the right side of his face. He backtracked slightly but shook his head and focused again on Natasha. She broke her normal pattern of fighting to instead do some evasive tactics. Clint punched, recoiled and jolted forward again, trying to anticipate her move before it happened. The best defense against Clint was to not know what you were going to do next, to make it up on the fly; if you didn't know what you were about to do, neither would he.

She narrowly dodged his last hit, before finally seeing her opening. She ducked under Clint's left blow and snaked her right arm around his shoulders, toppling them both over before using her legs in a scissor grip to hold him against the mat.

She had him pinned against the mat this time, and her arm was still holding his upper body down. With her other hand she pushed his chin up towards the ceiling so he couldn't even see an escape route. He tensed hard against her grip, grinding his chin against her wrist. She didn't let up however, waiting for him to verbally acknowledge her win. He remained silent, only the sound of his heavy breathing to fill up the room.

In a few seconds Natasha was going to win by default, so she waited it out. She could feel him trying to shift her weight to free his arm but she pushed down harder. It didn't work however, because while she pushed down on one side, his other arm slid out from behind and grabbed her hair. Her head snapped back with the feeling of Clint's fingers tangled in her hair, giving her a headache already. She pulled her head against his fingers to try and loosen his grip but the more she pulled the worse it hurt. She mentally cursed Clint for the stupid fighting methods he created sometimes.

She grunted in discomfort as she pushed his other arm down to the ground and rolled him over to his side, while still holding him in a firm grip between her legs. His hand didn't loosen on her hair, and she was momentarily impressed that he could flex his body that way. He pulled her hair harder and she couldn't suppress the growl that came out of her throat. Without thinking she leaned down as best she could and bit his ear. Hard.

Natasha had no idea why she was doing what she was doing, but that was the easiest way to inflict any sort of pain at the moment. Clint groaned loudly, cringing at the feeling of her teeth against his ear. She bit down harder until he finally released her hair. She let go of his ear, liberating his body fully to lie flat on her back. Her neck was killing from being pulled back that hard, and Clint was lying on his stomach next to her massaging his ear. They stayed there, taking a long while to catch their breath until the room came back to silence. Eventually Natasha reached over and elbowed Clint in his ribs. He grumbled in pain before turning over to his other side, farther away from her.

"What was that for," he said, between breaths.

Natasha was equally exhausted as she stood up and began walking to the towel rack.

"For pulling my hair, you asshole." She grabbed a towel and wiped her face down, only partially miffed when she heard Clint start laughing.

"You bit my ear." He said just as accusingly, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. She didn't say anything as she draped the towel over her shoulder and left the gym, the sound of Clint chuckling behind her.

* * *

The next morning Natasha woke up sweating. Her dreams had been intense, but as it almost always happened she forgot them the minute she opened her eyes.

She remembered feeling exhausted. Someone was in her dreams with her, a man. He was blurry though, and she couldn't make out all of his features. Something she was doing in her dream was wearing her out, but she couldn't remember what it was so she forcibly assumed it was a simple work out. In her dream she must have went to the gym, met a random guy there and they… worked out together?

Even though she knew it was ridiculous, she didn't want to have to worry herself with bothersome details. If it was something else, something less appropriate, then she definitely didn't want to think about it.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed she got up and proceeded to her normal morning routine. After her shower she dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, with a pair of slightly worn sneakers on her feet.

Today was supposed to be partner aptitude testing for Shield. Each set of partners was to be tested separately and together depending on which set of skills they were examining. Natasha stretched lazily and walked out the door. Aptitude tests were always a breeze for her and Clint. They finished in the shortest time out of all the partners, and then spent the rest of the day relaxing. One time they stole the private jet and took a trip to Greece. Director Fury hadn't been pleased about that.

She took the elevator down, and when she reached the first floor she took a sharp left in the direction of the main office area. When she swiped her key-ID and opened the door she almost wished she hadn't. It was pure chaos.

Director Fury was standing in a circle of angry agents, most of them Natasha knew and the rest she couldn't identify. She saw Clint standing off to one side and strode cautiously over to stand by him. He had his arms crossed, clearly upset about something, but he at least had his head together. Everyone else was losing it.

"What is going on?" Natasha looked baffled at the amount of people who were talking at once. Clint shook his head bitterly.

"They've added a new section to the aptitude tests. It's called: Partner Attachment Examination. Supposedly they're going to see if any of Shield's agents have been compromised emotionally by being in a partnership with any other agent." Clint glanced at her nervously and she gave him a steady gaze back. Her eyebrows dropped a little though.

"What's wrong with that?" She asked when he kept staring at her. He immediately looked back at Director Fury and the others.

"Nothing." He said shortly. Natasha continued to watch him for a few more seconds before turning her gaze back to the disarray in front of her. Director Fury was talking in a million different directions at once.

"No please… It isn't going to affect your overall ratings… We just want to see how— Please you don't have to yell so loud…" Fury pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, taking a few moments to collect his thoughts. Natasha wondered distantly why so many people would object to this test unless they all had something to hide.

"Everyone stop!" Fury lifted a hand into the air and everyone stopped talking on command, even the personnel working in the background. Silence hung thick in the air, and people all around turned slowly to face the director.

"This test is only here to show us if you and your partner can continue working together without getting emotionally involved. If you have a problem with that, or you don't think you will be able to handle the stress," Director Fury's voice took on a thick load of sarcasm, seeing as these agents were trained for stress, "…then I am sure you are all capable of finding the door!" He pointed sternly to the exit, staring each one of his agents in the eye carefully.

No one moved, no one even breathed for what seemed like a minute. Director Fury straightened his jacked and cleared his throat.

"Good. We'll be taking you for this test one at a time, so all of you have a seat." Someone was already starting to interject but Director Fury cut him off.

"And if I hear a single word of protest, you will find yourself kicked off this task force so fast you won't be able to say 'Goodbye Shield' is that understood?" He looked at the absolute end of his patience and everyone nodded in agreement. Fury stalked off to a private office door before slamming it shut.

A few agents sat down. The first one to be called was Ramira, someone Natasha knew. Years ago they talked about their partners, and Natasha could have sworn Ramira had genuine feelings for Tyler, her partner of 4 years. Natasha watched as Ramira's eyes widened when her name was called. Her face remained calm though, strong and steady as though she were in the middle of a mission She looked at Tyler and then back to the door before starting to slowly walk over. She was ushered into a small room before the door was shut with a resounding thud.

Some agents murmured to their partners, others remained silent. Others sat down, but Clint remained standing with his arms crossed so Natasha stayed standing as well. She could tell he was anxious, though she didn't know why.

"Looks like we won't be finishing the fastest this time." She said lightly, trying to ease some of his tension. He smiled, his eyes never leaving the door Ramira had walked through a minute ago. It was almost as if he was trying to use x-ray vision to see what was happening in there. Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder gently.

"Relax. It's going to be easy, just like all the other times."

He looked down at her hand briefly before turning his eyes up to her. It only took her half a second to sense the emotion behind them.

He was scared.

She squeezed his shoulder gently before letting her hand fall to her side. Suddenly her stomach became a little tighter. The fact that he was scared was making her feel uneasy. What does he have to be scared about? All they had to do was prove that they were completely competent as partners and had no emotional attachment to one another.

Natasha swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in the back of her throat.

"Right," Clint said apprehensively, turning his head back to the door. "Piece of cake."


	3. Partners

When an agent was finished with his or her test, you didn't see them come out of the same door they went into.

Natasha chewed the inside of her lip, absentmindedly contemplating the possibility of another door within the room. She was still standing up after about forty-five minutes, leaning against a window frame beside her.

Clint was behind her, playing with a small lock of her hair. It was a peculiar nervous habit that he had picked up over their years of working together. She never asked him why he did it. The first time it happened was on a mission in Nepal. They were at a dinner party, very exquisite and high class, and they were scanning the crowd for their target. Natasha had been drinking a glass of champagne when Clint came up to stand behind her. She could feel part of her hair being toyed with, and she thought he might be joking around. When she looked back at his face though, she saw the eyes of someone who was riddled with anxiety.

It was the same today, and she couldn't blame him. Director Fury was separating each pair of partners one at a time. Nobody looked even the slightest bit relaxed. Tension was high, and more than a few agents looked about ready to resign.

Natasha didn't even realize Clint was still dwindling with her hair until he stopped. She turned around to find him looking out the window instead, one hand on his hip and the other propped against the windowpane. His jaw was tight, controlled, and his eyebrows were lowered as if in concentration.

She rarely saw him like this. If anything it was her who lost her cool sometimes, not Clint. Her brain was already racked with trying to find a light topic to bring up, something that would pull Clint out of whatever vortex his mind had fallen into.

"Have you seen Tony or Pepper today? I heard they wanted to talk to you about something."

Natasha had to bite her tongue to keep from continuing. Apparently Tony and Pepper were going to throw a surprise party for Clint's birthday. Natasha had already told them what a terrible idea that was, Clint was not a fan of surprises, but Tony was a force that no one could stop. It was so unusual for Natasha to keep a secret from Clint that she had almost let it slip several times that week.

"Not recently, is it important?" Clint turned his eyes to her in genuine concern and she relaxed a little.

"No probably not. You know Tony, he loves to hear himself talk." She said stiffly, hoping he would accept the answer. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, nodding at her comment before turning lazily back to the window. She glanced at him once over while they waited. He had definitely lost some weight but not sickeningly so, and there was a scar on his back that she had never seen before.

Natasha was going to ask where it came from but something else caught her eye. On his left ear, just above the earlobe, was a pink bandage covered in hearts. It looked like ones that might be handed out at an elementary school function. The hearts said typical hallmark phrases that led her to believe they were Valentines Day Band-Aids. Her face darkened when she saw the biggest heart on the bandage, which read clearly "Love Bite".

"What is this?" She said, slowly reaching her hand up and pinching his ear between her thumb and forefinger. Clint sucked in a breath and when his mouth started to curve into a smile she pinched harder. This time he genuinely cringed in pain.

"It's just a bandage. I had to do something to cover up that… _bite_ you gave me." Clint gave her a devilish grin and she squeezed his ear again. While he tensed under her grip she leaned in close to him.

"You better hope that next time you still have an ear." She whispered, letting him go right before she heard the door open behind them.

As usual the agent who went in before was nowhere to be seen, and Director Fury came out with a clipboard and pen. He scribbled a few things down, looking up every once in a while. He glanced at Clint briefly to see him nursing his ear pathetically before shaking his head and writing something else down.

"Clint Barton."

Natasha swallowed at his words. She turned around to see Clint, but his face was stony and direct. He was putting on what Natasha called his 'agent face'. He stood a little straighter, so he could see just over Natasha's head from his position.

"Yes sir?"

Natasha noticed his Band-Aid was no longer on his ear.

"Come on, Clint. You're up." Director Fury gave him a half smile before stepping aside slightly to wait. Clint nodded solemnly before beginning to walk towards the door. Natasha was going to do something, or maybe say something, but she didn't come up with anything in time. She smiled at him, and as he walked by she felt something pushed into her hand.

She kept a straight face while she watched him disappear behind the door. When everyone took a breath and went back to whatever they were doing, she chanced an opening of her hand. She smiled slightly at the small crumpled Band-Aid in her hand, squeezing it one more time for good luck.

* * *

Natasha thought waiting was hard before, but waiting without Clint was even worse.

Doing much of anything without Clint was hard, now that she thought about it. It was like having an extension of yourself around at all times; someone who watched your back, and listened to your stories, and engaged in all the activities you did. Almost like a marriage. The only difference was they were not having sex.

When you have another person with you, someone who knows you that well, you can relax a little. The chances that something bad would happen to her were slim, but with Clint they were almost nonexistent. She didn't have to worry about being too slow, or too distracted. She had her other half with her.

She was slowly stewing in this room by herself. Of course she wasn't by herself, but she didn't know anyone except for one of the tech guys who barely talked to anyone. Aaron was his name, if she remembered correctly. The only reason she happened to talk to him is because she had accidentally saved him from dying, they day they were under attack by Loki. A lot happened that day though, and she didn't remember it happening the way he said.

Everyone else was a stranger, but worse because these strangers were all highly skilled assassins in a highly emotional situation. Not the greatest combination.

She sighed and waited firmly in her spot, choosing to stare out the window in favor of watching the dreaded door.

Several minutes passed by when finally the door opened again. Director Fury came out, his brow even more furrowed than it was before if that was possible. Natasha craned her neck to see if Clint was still in there but an empty white wall met her gaze. Director Fury scanned the crowd briefly before writing something down and then looking back up. He looked directly at her.

Without words Natasha already knew it was her turn, but she waited for him to say it.

"You're up, Natasha." He said simply. She swallowed hard for some reason, the nerves finally beginning to reach her. Everyone watched as she strode over to him and nodded. Director Fury gave her a knowing smile before opening the door and allowing her to pass.

The room was large, much larger than she expected. After all that waiting she half-expected it to be a prison cell. The walls were white as eggshells, only shifting color to show the lines where doors existed. Her previous theory about there being a second door was right.

There was a table in the dead center of the room with two chairs behind it.

There were two men in the room, one in the corner sitting on a chair. He had a pair of silver sunglasses on, and his legs were crossed very professionally. His facial expression bank consisted of approximately one emotion: borderline interested.

His partner was another man, sitting behind the table on the left chair. He was more personable, had a friendly smile and big eyes that rested behind a pair of bug glasses. He fit the role of someone who worked behind a desk somewhere, but the way he carried himself suggested not. There was something fake about his smile; it was the same one Natasha wore to meet targets.

Director Fury walked around to sit on the other chair behind the table. He scooted the chair back and leaned against his arm, resting his head in his hand. It seemed like he wasn't the one doing the interview today.

"Ms. Romanov please, have a seat." The man with glasses addressed her too enthusiastically but she obliged after one look at the Director. By his facial expression it was likely a lot of agents were overly suspicious about this test.

"May I have your left arm please."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, scanning the equipment that was on top of the table. She hadn't even noticed what it was, but now she saw it clear as day: a polygraph.

Her stomach sunk even lower, as she slowly protruded her arm out towards him. He took it, gently connecting some wire to her arm in different sections. The final touch was a strap that snaked around her upper arm, and she took a deep breath when he had finished, steeling her emotions.

For a few minutes there was silence. The man with glasses stared at her with a pleasant expression, perfectly formed smile and all. Director Fury kept his eyes on his clipboard, and the man in the corner made no motion whatsoever. Natasha felt the past tension of other agents who must have sat in her exact place. She didn't move, barely even indicated she was breathing. Her eyes bore into the man in front of her, using a technique she always used when she met suspicious people. In just one look she could usually press answers out of people, but this man was different. He simply sat and stared and smiled as if it were the easiest thing in the world that they were all here.

Decisively, the man reached out and turned the machine on. He watched carefully, looking back and forth slowly between Natasha and the readings on the polygraph. After a few more seconds he nodded.

"Very good." His smile widened and he crossed his hands together in front of him.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lester Hent, the head researcher at the Blue Hat Psychology Corporation. We deal especially in human relations. May I call you Natasha?"

Natasha listened warily. "Agent Romanov is fine," she said. Lester smiled briefly and then nodded. He shuffled a few papers around until he pulled a blank piece of paper out with a pen. He set the paper down next to the machine, and then looked back up at her, pen poised for writing.

"Alright then, let's begin. The first part of the test is basic response. I'm going to ask a few questions and gauge your reaction to set a baseline for your heartbeat."

Natasha nodded tightly, watching as Lester moved the wires to one side and pressed a few more buttons. When the machine beeped loudly he moved for his pen and propped it against the blank sheet of paper.

"What is your full name?"

"Natasha Romanov."

"How old are you?"

"24."

In between each answer Lester would stop and look at the machine, then he would look at her before writing something down on his paper.

"What agency do you work for?" Lester's eyes bore into her and she wondered amusingly if he were trying to intimidate her.

"The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." She said without effort. Lester smiled and wrote something down.

"Excellent. We have a baseline." The Director who had been sitting quietly now stood up and moved for the backdoor. He gave Natasha a brief reassuring glance before turning the knob and disappearing behind the wall.

"Why did he leave?" Natasha asked. Lester chuckled before setting his pen down to address her. She hated the way he talked to her as if she were a child, but in reality she could kill him fourteen different ways from where she was sitting.

"Does that make you uncomfortable, when Director Fury leaves?" His expression remained constantly blank and she shook her head.

"No, I was just wondering."

He seemed to ponder the statement longer than necessary before he picked up his pen again.

"He left because now we start the personal portion of the test. We do not permit anyone else to witness this section unless it is completely necessary. My associate Fernando is here merely for extra protection in case an agent becomes a little too… feisty." His voice cracked on the last word and Natasha bumped up her wariness.

"The only purpose of this test," he continued, "is to determine whether or not you can work effectively with your partner, Clint Barton. If it is determined you can, then nothing you have said will ever leave this room. If it is determined you can't," he stopped short, looking Natasha very closely in the eye, "then we will notify the Director." Lester said with a bitter finality. Natasha nodded again, showing nothing on her face.

"Ok, let's begin." Lester reached out and pulled the machine a little closer to him, then picked up his pen.

"Do you like working here, as an agent for Shield?"

Natasha thought about it for a second before answering. She had never really known the true meaning of a home before, but she assumed it was somewhere where people loved you and you felt safe. Shield was the closest she ever got to that.

"Yes. Before I came here I was a puppet to a very powerful man. He was monstrous, and I was lucky to be saved from him before I lost myself completely. Shield is my safe haven, and it's an honor to work here." Natasha meant every word of it, and Lester saw that. He wrote another small thing down before continuing.

"How would you characterize your relationship with Clint Barton."

"We're partners." Natasha said automatically. She almost didn't realize she said it so fast until Lester laughed.

"Yes we are aware of that. I meant more along the lines of how do you two work together as a team?" He seemed to be probing for a reaction but Natasha didn't even have to hesitate.

"We work fantastically. He watches my back and I watch his. I have never had someone who I can rely on like that."

"Hmm. And that bothers you, doesn't it?" Lester said softly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What bothers me?" She asked slowly.

"That you have to rely on someone."

Natasha rose her head slightly at his statement. "I don't have to rely on anyone." She said darkly. "I am choosing to because Clint is a great partner."

"How do you know he is a great partner? My records indicate you've never had a partner before." Lester had both his elbows on the table now, resting his chin on his hands.

"Yes, but," Natasha fumbled her words slightly and Lester sat up straighter, "I assume this is what a good partnership is like."

"Why?" Lester persisted.

Natasha sighed irritably. "Well after he saved me…"

"Ah, so it's because he saved your life. Is that why you are partners with him? Because you feel indebted to him?"

"No." Natasha replied stiffly. The machine made a soft beep and Lester picked up his pen quickly. He began scribbling down different things and Natasha leaned back uncomfortably in her chair. She hadn't expected Lester to question her so ruthlessly; just a minute ago he was politely smiling and asking boring questions.

"Has your partner ever asked you to do something unusual?"

"Unusual how?" Natasha saw Lester scratch his chin thoughtfully. He clearly wasn't reading from his paper anymore, it looked like he was about to make something up.

"Like maybe asking you to stay with him an extra day on a traveling assignment."

Natasha narrowed her eyes icily. She didn't like Lester's undertone at all, but she answered nonetheless.

"No, he has never asked me to do anything unusual."

"Have you ever engaged in physical intimacy with Agent Barton?"

Natasha's eyes widened. "No!" She said quickly. The machine made another soft beep and Lester shook his head.

"Please, Agent Romanov, do not lie on this test."

Natasha swallowed hard and composed herself. "The only time we have ever engaged in physical intimacy," her voice was a little shaky, "is when it was required for an assignment."

Lester looked eagerly at the machine, probably hoping it would beep but it didn't to his clear dismay. Natasha took a deep breath when he eventually started writing something down.

When he finished he set his pen down. He slowly took of his glasses and set them down in front of him, crossing his arms over the table. He looked at her for a few minutes as Natasha waited patiently for the question she figured was coming.

"Do you love him?"

Natasha sucked in a breath, quietly hoping he didn't notice. She knew this was going to be a question. At the very beginning of her career at Shield, Director Fury had sat down with her and told her strict guidelines she had to abide by. The first and foremost was to never, ever fall in love with your partner.

"No." She said flatly. Natasha had trained her body over the years to tell that lie as easily as breathing.

Lester waited, clearly waiting for further explanation or maybe a confession. Natasha remained silent, and so did the machine. Lester smiled, but he didn't write anything down. Something about the weathered look in his eye told her that he had been hearing a lot of agents say exactly what she had said today. And he didn't believe a word of it.

Slowly but surely Lester began taking the wires off Natasha's arm. When he was finished he placed the paper he had been writing on inside of a tan folder before filing it away.

"That will be all, thank you Agent Romanov." He gave her one brief smile, before standing up and showing her to the door. She stood up and strode out the back door, only too happy to be done with that test.

"What a waste of time," she muttered under her breath as she passed through an empty hallway.

"Tell me about it." Clint was suddenly behind her and she gasped when she heard his voice. She instantly felt better when she turned to see his face smiling back at her. They had been through almost everything together at Shield, so going through this was a weird experience for both of them.

"Well, now comes the easy part." She said, giving him a playful nudge on his shoulder.

"Easy for me, maybe." He smirked at her and she shot him a glare back.

"I'm just saying," he continued, backing up from her advancing form, "it might get a little hard to fight with all your hair getting in the way."

With that she started to full on chase him down the hallway, the sound of his laughter guiding her to the next test.


End file.
